


in the aftermath

by triplexpoint



Category: The Proposal (2009)
Genre: #yuletide, Because #yuletide, Canon Compliant, Don't Have to Know Canon, F/M, Immigration & Emigration, Post-Canon, the publishing world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triplexpoint/pseuds/triplexpoint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[for those who haven't watched the movie, it can be summarized thus: a fake engagement to avoid deportation eventually becomes a real engagement, but not without some shenanigans. a romantic comedy with tons of sass.]</p><p>tying up all those loose ends. because a love story never ends at declarations of love and kisses. and really, that second immigration interview was quite the disaster, wasn't it? and let's not even think about the backlog of work that awaits...</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silveronthetree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveronthetree/gifts).



> blessed Yuletide, silveronthetree! you asked for 'what happens next after the movie' and I... did just that. ^_^
> 
> with many many thanks to Moriann for the lightning-fast beta and to all of #yuletide for the support.

They do have a happy ending.

It’s just not a fairytale one.

Yeah - they made out in front of everyone in the office (and Margaret’s never going to live that one down) and they made soppy declarations of love, but that only means they’ll try to make it work. They still have to deal with each other on a daily basis, both in and out of work. And in that respect, they are both beginners.

\---

The immigration issue goes about as well as one would expect. They’re in love now, yes, but they hardly know every single last detail about each other. (At least, the details that the blue book requires). So it goes without saying that they fail the immigration interview. However, given 'extenuating circumstances' (and Andrew is pleased at how much his bullshitting skills have improved over the years), the interviewer graciously agrees not to deport Margaret if they can pass the interview within three months.

They go home, relieved. Margaret breaks out a bottle of champagne and downs half of it before ordering Andrew to find the list of questions online and to copy them into a Google Document. 

"Not your PA."

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she snaps back.

“If I don’t stop you now, you’ll treat me like one again.”

They only stop quarrelling when Andrew’s mother calls, asking about the immigration interview.

Margaret flushes. Swallows her pride and looks at Andrew.

“Okay. You’re right. I won’t - I’ll try not to do that again. I’m sorry.”

Andrew stares at her, gobsmacked, and it’s all she can do not to demand how low his opinion of her is.

“I - yeah - okay. Apology accepted.” She reaches out for him and they hug.

“So.” Andrew fires up his laptop. “GDoc?”

“GDoc,” she confirms, opening the blue book to double-check the information he pulls off Google.

Hours later, they have the remains of takeout scattered around Margaret’s bed and floor and they are _still_ plugging away at the questions.

“Well, at least we’ve got the ‘how you met part’ covered,” grouses Andrew. “That is, if you don’t forget my job interview.”

Margaret groans. She only interviewed the shortlist, but that was still ten people. And when one is in the position of power, one tends not to remember interviews.

“The ‘Home and Money’ section is bullshit,” says Andrew. “If you are standing at your kitchen sink, facing it, where is the microwave oven?”

Margaret pulls a face. “I don’t remember the last time I microwaved something,” she says, evenly.

They stare at each other, willing the other one to do the walking. Finally, Margaret struggles to her feet.

“We’ll split it?” she pleads. “I’ll check housing agreements and monthly payments, you check microwaves and laundry cycles.”

Andrew nods.

They’re getting better.

\---

Margaret still forgets, occasionally, that Andrew is her editor and not her assistant. It results in epic quarrels at work, and IMs pinging around the office to the tune of ‘Is This War Or Is This War.’

The backlog of work that happened during this entire shebang is prodigious, to say the least. On the upside, Margaret is less of an ogre. She actually apologizes, nowadays. Even if she still needs a triple-shot espresso macchiato before she can function.

(Andrew still gets it for her. He’d hand it down to someone else, but the barista down the street knows him so well by now that sending someone else would just waste time. Name-and-face recognition is hard to come by in midtown Manhattan and with the backlog, every second is precious.)

They get through it, eventually. It helps that the publishing world is notoriously small, so by now, everyone has heard of the infamous Margaret Tate, her immigration problems and her ‘creative’ solution.

 _Talk about reprogramming the Kobayashi Maru,_ says one typesetter to the office-wide IM-chat, a massive Star Trek geek.

She is inundated by requests for explanations.

_For god’s sake, Google is your friend. ...Fine. Tight deadlines. No-win scenario._

Two weeks later, Margaret triumphantly emerges from her office, her bun unravelling.

“That's the last of our overdue deadlines.”

The office bursts into cheers.

Margaret calls in pizza and donuts and declares the whole thing on her. Problem is, she’s been sleeping in the office for the past few days and has no idea where her wallet has disappeared to.

The delivery guy looks expectantly at her and then at everyone else, as though he can force them to pony up a couple hundred bucks.

“Andrew?”

Everyone suppresses a snigger.

Andrew turns around, a fatalistic expression on his face.

“Margaret.” Silence. “Margaret. No. You did not.”

“I did.” The office's IM chatlogs later _swear_ that Margaret Tate is capable of the best puppy eyes ever.

“Please?” she begs.

“I hope you realize I still haven’t drawn my editor’s salary yet. You know, the higher one.”

“I’ll pay for next week’s Starbucks,” bargains Margaret.

“All of next month’s.”

Margaret glares at him, but has no choice.

“Deal,” she says.

The office whoops.

Margaret reminds Andrew that when they are married, they will share their wealth. Andrew retorts that her personal wealth exceeds his. She mouths “Sitka” and takes gleeful delight in his scowl.

\--

They pass their immigration interview the third time around. “Third time’s the charm,” says Andrew, smugly, as he walks out. “I feel like I’ve just swallowed the facts of your life, my life and our life and purged them out."

Beside him, Margaret just looks exhausted.

“Congratulations!” says the officer as they leave. “We will send you details about your visa as soon we process the paperwork.”

Margaret nods. Suddenly, she has an idea. As they walk out onto the frenetic Manhattan sidewalk, she tugs Andrew’s sleeve. As he turns around, she goes down on one knee and recreates her first proposal, down to the sarcastic pet names.

Andrew bursts into laughter. “Yep, definitely not a romantic.” He insists on taking a photo of her kneeling before making some random passer-by take a photo of the entire scene.

At their second, actual wedding, the photo takes pride of place.


End file.
